(no subject)
It's been a while, now, and Ben's kinda gotten used to the place. Or 'gotten used to' is strong, maybe, but he's less wary of everything, even if he does stand back a bit from Bar every time he orders something 'cause goddamn if that isn't just weird. Ain't a day passes that he don't look for his door, too, but it's not comin' back and maybe he's starting to be okay with the fact he's stuck here. Sure, some of the people are a little - weird, and there's apparently other worlds and magic and shit which he's just having to wrap his mind around slow-like, but it's safe and they keep a tab so he don't gotta pay for the smokes and the drinks and the food.
He ain't got himself a room yet, though, can't afford that so he sleeps on the couches sometimes, in the back of booths. When he can sleep. He'd thought maybe, somehow this place'd make the dreams better but it don't and every time he closes his eyes he's still openin' them to battlefields and cornfields, blood and rifle shells and bears in circus costumes.
So he looks tired, maybe, little upset and he's sittin' closer to the fire then he usually would, chain-smokin' his way through a pack of cigarettes and trying not to think.
(tattoos, cannonthunder, you're marked, boy!)
It ain't workin'.
[tinytag: ben hawkins]
He ain't got himself a room yet, though, can't afford that so he sleeps on the couches sometimes, in the back of booths. When he can sleep. He'd thought maybe, somehow this place'd make the dreams better but it don't and every time he closes his eyes he's still openin' them to battlefields and cornfields, blood and rifle shells and bears in circus costumes.
So he looks tired, maybe, little upset and he's sittin' closer to the fire then he usually would, chain-smokin' his way through a pack of cigarettes and trying not to think.
(tattoos, cannonthunder, you're marked, boy!)
It ain't workin'.
[tinytag: ben hawkins]